A Father’s Instinct
I kept my voice calm. “Oh, I think I left the pie in the oven. Let me check before it burns.”
In the kitchen, I quietly closed the door, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911.
“This is David, at 1824 Willow Lane,” I whispered. “My daughter may be in danger from the man she brought home. Please send someone quickly. I’ll stall him.”
The dispatcher assured me officers were on their way.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and walked back to the table.
“Mark,” I said casually, “do you like ice cream with pie?”
He gave a stiff smile. Emily rose to get ice from the freezer, and as she passed me, I whispered, “Stay calm. I’ve got this.”
